Color by Numbers
by DawnieS
Summary: Lily Evans was everything that Sirius Black was not: studious, rule-abiding, and so unfailingly good. And Sirius was everything Lily knew she was but didn't want to be: temperamental, judgmental, and stubborn. But for the sake of one James Potter, the two had to find a way to get along.


Color by Numbers

Summary: Lily Evans was everything that Sirius Black was not: studious, rule-abiding, and so unfailingly _good_. And Sirius was everything Lily knew she was but didn't want to be: temperamental, judgmental, and stubborn. But for the sake of one James Potter, the two had to find a way to get along.

* * *

_i. Orange_

_He gives her the nickname Morgana and she dumps pumpkin juice on his head – and this is the beginning._

He gives Evans a wide berth after the pumpkin juice incident. It has broken some of the tension between them, but they are by no means friends. She is still a temperamental know-it-all who has his best mate wrapped around her little finger, and it still drives Sirius nearly insane to watch the way James grins stupidly at her.

But at least she seems to have some sense of humor; the pumpkin juice is proof of that. He reflects on that as he moodily watches James and Evans play chess in the Gryffindor common room. At least James hasn't fallen for some dull, humorless, stick-in-the-mud.

Sirius watches as Evans wins – though, really, that is only because Remus is helping her – and celebrates her victory by throwing a pillow at James. James gives her a mock-glare and lunges forward, tackling her backwards into the armchair. He's tickling her and she's shrieking in a combination of laughter and outrage, and then they're snogging right in the middle of the common room.

Sirius slides off his own armchair and wanders out of the portrait hole.

Remus catches up with him before he's gone very far. "It's past curfew," he says.

Sirius rolls his eyes. "Then you'd better run back to the common room, prefect," he retorts, though he grins slightly at Remus to take the sting out of his words.

Remus gives him a nonplussed look. "And what are you going to do if you get caught?" he demands. "You know Filch would love the opportunity to chain you by your ankles to the ceiling in the dungeon."

"I'll transform and sneak away before anyone can catch me," Sirius counters, dismissing Remus' concerns.

"Yes, that's a good plan, because no one is going to notice a giant black dog running through the school," Remus deadpans. He gives Sirius a quick, sideways glance, and says, "I suppose if you're very lucky, people will just assume you are a Grim. Then you won't be in trouble – but anyone who sees you will believe they are about to die. Do you really want all that paranoia and hysteria on your conscience?"

Sirius laughs outright at that. "Have you _met_ me? Since when do I fight _against_ paranoia and hysteria?"

"I was hoping to appeal to the better angels of your nature, Padfoot," Remus defends himself. He smirks. "I forgot you have none. A momentary lapse – I assure you it won't happen again."

They continue walking in silence for a few minutes. Remus doesn't say anything, and Sirius doesn't bother asking why he left the common room. Remus likes Evans – has liked Evans for years. Not the way James does, and not with the ridiculous blinders that James seems to have, but he still likes her, and Sirius just cannot figure out why.

Slughorn dotes on her, McGonagall bestows her very rare smiles on her, Flitwick praises her charms… even Filch seems to hate her just a little bit less than he hates every other student. Merlin, what do all these people see in her?

Finally, he clears his throat and says, "Nice win." Remus frowns, and Sirius elaborates, "The chess game."

"Lily won," Remus says pointedly. "I only offered a little assistance."

Sirius snorts. "Please. Evans couldn't win at chess if she was playing against herself."

Remus attempts to hold back a laugh and ends up coughing. He shakes his head, bemused, but then acquiesces, "True enough." He is silent for a long moment, staring at Sirius as though trying to decide what to do. Finally, he sighs and says, "Did you really have to pick Morgana as your nickname for her?"

Sirius adopts an expression of innocence. "What else should I have chosen?"

"Anything besides the name of an infamous Dark witch?" Remus suggests dryly.

"She should be flattered," Sirius protests. "Morgan le Fey was quite famous. As famous as Merlin, really. Just… you know… evil." Remus stops walking and gives Sirius a meaningful look, and Sirius says with a huff, "Well, I couldn't start calling her Merlin, could I? She's a _girl_."

Remus throws his hands into the air. "You're hopeless."

Sirius grins. "I know." He pauses, and then turns and gestures for Remus to follow him back towards the common room. There's no fun in wandering around the corridors after curfew unless they have some mischief to get into, and James will never forgive Sirius if he gets left out of the troublemaking.

As they near the portrait hole, Remus catches his sleeve, stopping him. "She's trying, you know," he says earnestly. "Lily. She's trying to… well, maybe not be your friend, but at least get along with you."

Sirius glowers, but bites back all the various sharp retorts he wants to make. He doesn't need Remus' pity, or understanding, or advice. It's not like he's even jealous of Evans. He's not worried she's going to steel James away from him. He knows perfectly well that he will always be James' best mate, and this is not petty jealousy or some childish tantrum.

She's a change in his life, though, and he doesn't like change.

Change never seems to end well for him.

But instead of saying any of that, he asks simply, defensively, "And how do I know that she is trying?"

Remus gives him the ghost of a smile. "Because when you called her Morgana, she dumped pumpkin juice on your head."

* * *

_ii. White_

She stands in the too-white, too-sterile hallway and watches as the Healers bustle in and out of the room across from her. Marlene has an arm wrapped around her shoulders, and Remus is speaking, explaining, but she ignores them both. Her mind doesn't seem to be functioning properly.

All she can think is that James is in that room, and she's not with him.

The weight of her engagement ring, a slender white-gold band with a single diamond, rests heavily on her finger, as though mocking her. James had promised her forever, and now…

She can't breathe, and she struggles to fight down the panic rising in her chest.

"Lily?"

She glances at Remus. She should be asking about everyone else on the Order mission. She should want to know if everyone made it out alive, if there were any other injuries, if there is anything she should be doing.

She should care.

She doesn't.

"Lily," Remus says, calling her name again, "why don't you sit down?" And he gestures to the white bench opposite the door.

She shakes her head, but stumbles towards the bench anyway. "I – I want to…" She trails off, and sits down heavily. Marlene hovers, all her cheerful smiles and constant giggling gone now as she watches Lily.

The hallway falls into tense silence.

They wait.

And then Sirius appears, storming down the hallway in an explosion of frenzied chaos. His arm and neck are swathed in heavy white bandages, and his skin is drained of all color, but his eyes are bright and wild. He strides past the sitting Lily and seizes Remus by the shoulders.

"Where is he? Where is Prongs?" he demands. "Is he alright?"

"He's being treated now," Remus says softly, disentangling himself from Sirius grasp and urging his friend towards the bench. "Why don't you sit down while we wait for the Healers to…"

"I'm not waiting!" Sirius snaps. "I want to know what is happening _now_." He spins on Lily then. "Evans! What did they tell you?"

Lily shakes her head wordlessly. Sirius is looking at her with an accusatory glint in his eyes, almost as though he suspects her of withholding information. She should say something – ease the tension, ask after his own injuries, _anything_ – but she can't think of the words.

She looks past him, at the door separating her from James.

"Evans," Sirius bites, shouts, demands. He looms over her. She doesn't look at him, barely even registers that he is there. She hears the scuff of his shoes on the floor as he shifts his weight, vaguely notes that he's almost shaking with emotion. He's all anger and agitation, but she ignores it. Sirius is alive and well enough, but James is in that room, and could be dying…

She never thought she'd be one of those girls who so utterly falls to pieces when her boyfriend – fiancé – is in danger, but, _Merlin_, she is scared.

"Haven't you asked the Healers?" Sirius continues, seething. "We need answers, Evans." She doesn't respond, and he grabs her arm to get her attention, demanding, "What have they told you about Prongs?"

She snaps.

"_Nothing_!" she yells at him, surging to her feet. He's still taller than her, but she lifts her chin defiantly and shouts the words. "They haven't told me anything, either, so for the love of Merlin why don't you just shut the hell up?"

Sirius looks as though she has slapped him.

She almost wishes she had.

They are yelling at each other within minutes, and Lily isn't really sure why. She doesn't keep track of the words that come out of her mouth. Marlene attempts to physically drag her away from the argument, and Remus circles around them both anxiously, trying to get her to calm down, but she ignores them. James has been injured and she is scared and Sirius can go to hell for all she cares.

Doesn't he know that she wants information, too? That if she wants to march into that room ages and demanded answers from the Healers? But she knows better than to distract them while they are racing to save James, and Sirius yelling at her as though she's somehow not doing her job properly is not helping the situation.

Finally, Sirius mutters curses under his breath as Remus yanks him none-too-gently down the hall, and Lily collapses back onto the bench, trying to ignore the only-somewhat-illogical anger at Sirius festering in her chest.

It is at that moment that she notices that Peter has arrived.

He offers a weak smile, though there is something unnervingly shrewd in his gaze as he looks between the still-angry Sirius arguing with Remus at the end of the hallway and Lily sitting with her head buried in her hands.

Peter walks over to her side and takes a seat on the white bench. She glances at him, slanting a look through the loose hair that falls over her eyes. And the look he gives her in return – so perceptive, so penetrating – makes her shift uncomfortably.

Then Peter sighs and says softly, "I think sometimes Padfoot forgets."

"Forgets what?"

He glances down at the ring on Lily's finger. "That he isn't the only one who cares. That Prongs has _two_ people who love him this much." He looks up to meet her gaze and adds diffidently, "But then, maybe he's not the only one who forgets that."

* * *

_iii. Red_

They bury Mr. Evans on a Tuesday, and for once, it is clear that James has no idea what to do. He lost his own parents just this past year, but Lily's never ending tears seem to completely confound him, as though he can't figure out why his hugs and kisses won't make everything better.

Sirius watches.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter died within weeks of each other, and though they weren't his parents, their deaths still tore him apart inside. He knows, strangely, what it is like to lose a loved one – and growing up in the Black family, he never thought that would be the case. He never thought he'd know what it meant _to_ love.

And now they are burying Mr. Evans.

Sirius stares at the pinewood box. He'd met Mr. Evans for the first and last time and James' wedding just a few months previous, and the man had been all smiles and full of energy. He'd been tall and broad with dancing brown eyes and slightly wavy blonde hair, and he'd laughed at Sirius' wild antics, delighted by the chaos of it all.

It seems impossible that his body could now be contained by that small, ordinary coffin.

Sirius glances at James. His best mate stands a few feet behind Evans, his eyes fixed on her wavy red hair. His face is set into hard lines, his eyes shadowed by grief. His fingers twitch, as though he wants to clench his hands into fists, as though he wants to hit something.

He is helpless to fix any of this, and helplessness was never something Prongs took well.

Evans stands with her mother, their matching red heads bowed in grief. Petunia stands on the other side of their mother, blonde hair and bony features a stark contrast, and the tension between the two sisters is palpable. Even at their father's grave, the distance between them is insurmountable.

Sirius inhales slowly, and feels sympathy despite himself. He, too, knows what it is like to watch a sibling drift away and not be able to stop it.

When the small graveside service is over, Petunia kisses her mother on the cheek, glares at Evans, and hurries off with the brute Dursley. Evans lingers at her mother's side for a moment more, murmuring softly as her eyes well with tears, then slips away to join James who immediately pulls her into a hug. Remus and Peter mill in the background, expressing their condolences to the few other mourners – friends of Mr. Evans – who are present. Lily's friends group together; Marlene wipes away a tear, Cynthia looks exhausted, Mary stares blankly at the grave, her expression unreadable.

Sirius stares at James and Evans.

"Does it get better?" Evans murmurs, nearly collapsed against James' chest.

James glances past Evans, at the fresh grave, and swallows thickly. "I don't know," he admits. He brushes a few strands of Evans' hair out of her eyes and kisses her on the forehead. "I'm here, love," he offers, because what else can anyone say?

Evans smiles sadly. "I know."

Sirius exhales. These brief moments of intimacy still catch him unawares, even after all these months. His throat goes dry, and he feels a sense of loss that doesn't even make sense. He shouldn't feel this way – not today, not at a cemetery, not when Evans has just lost a parent. He might not know much about family, but he knows grief, and he can see it in her eyes.

Today is not the day to focus on himself; but he's on the outside, looking in, and hates it.

James twirls his fingers through Evans' red hair, and Sirius looks away.

* * *

_iv. Purple_

The night Sirius sees Regulus kill an Order member, he puts his hand through the wall of Lily's new home.

She stands awkwardly, unnoticed, at the opposite end of the hallway, watching in silence as Sirius yanks his hand away from the wall and stares down at his knuckles with an ugly look on his face. There is a dent in the wall, and the chipped paint is stained with flecks of red.

Sirius punches the wall again.

"Padfoot," James says. He stands between Lily and Sirius, partially blocking her view, trying to offer comfort to his grieving friend. He flounders – it is evident that he can't think of the right words to say. "It's going to be alright," he offers weakly.

It won't, though. Lily knows that. And when Sirius turns a skeptical gaze on James, eyebrows raised, Lily can see that he knows it, too.

"Stuff it, Prongs," he says. His lips twist into a scowl. "And sod off."

"No," James says flatly. He takes a step forward. Sirius is still staring down at his hand, at the blood seeping from the split skin around his knuckles. He doesn't seem to notice James, doesn't seem to care. But James won't give up, and he presses on, "We're here. Moony and Wormtail and I. You don't have to… you don't have to do this alone. We can help you."

Sirius turns his full attention to James, his skin flushed and his eyes flashing dangerously. "Fuck off," he says, his voice low and cold.

It is the first time Lily has ever heard him talk to James like that.

And it is that anger more than anything else that sparks life into James' response, and he snaps back, "And watch you destroy yourself? Sorry, Padfoot. Not going to happen."

"Then tell me what I'm supposed to feel," Sirius growls. He shoves his hands against James' chest, pushing him backwards. His expression fills with malice, with fury. "Tell me how I need to forget him, forget that he's my brother." He shoves James again, and this time there is more strength behind the strike. James stumbles backwards, and Sirius presses the advantage, a half-mad look in his dark eyes. "Tell me I should make a choice – just like Moody said. Pick a side."

His final blow knocks James into the wall.

James retaliates, grabbing Sirius by the shoulders and slamming him backwards. Sirius looks momentarily dazed, and James seethes "I'm on your side, idiot!"

"How do you know what side I am on? What if I run off and join my family?" Sirius retorts, raising his voice. "What if I join dear cousin Bella? Or Narcissa and her lovely new husband?" He's shouting now, nearly hysterical, but it is the acrid venom dripping from his words that leaves Lily breathless. "What if I turn into Regulus? I should become like him, shouldn't I? I'm a Black, and this is what Blacks do. We kill Order members."

James looks at him for a very long moment, and then says quietly, "You daft, stupid prat. You aren't a Black. You are a Marauder. And I am always on your side. Don't you _know_ that?"

They haven't noticed Lily, and she suddenly feels like she is intruding. There is a closeness in their anger, in their insults and shouting, that she can't comprehend. It is a bond that she isn't part of, and she can't stop the jealousy from welling in her chest.

It's absurd. She has nothing to be jealous of, she _knows_ that – and, anyway, Regulus has killed, and Anastasia Alkaev is dead, and Sirius is falling to pieces, and what does she have to complain about?

But the traitorous feeling won't leave her, and it stings.

She slips away, disappearing into the kitchen. She can still hear the faint, indistinct murmur of voices, but she doesn't belong there, and what could she possibly offer Sirius anyway? It hurts in ways she doesn't really understand. She doesn't like feeling helpless, and she doesn't like feeling shut out.

Bile rises in her throat. She knows these feelings are selfish and self-centered, but she can't stop them.

Sirius stomps into the kitchen, James following. Sirius is shaking with pent up rage and ferocity. James just looks lost. But when Lily turns to face them, she skips over all of that and her eyes land first on Sirius' bloody fist.

"Here, let me…" she starts automatically, reaching for her wand, a healing spell on the tip of her tongue.

"Don't," Sirius spits. "Just leave it." He collapses ungracefully into a chair and sets his hand on the table, fingers spread out. He stares morosely at his bruised and broken knuckles, that same ugly look on his face.

Lily sighs. "Well, at least let me clean it out the Muggle way, then," she huffs irritably, reaching for a towel. "You have paint flecks in those cuts."

Sirius glares at her, his expression vicious. "I don't need help," he snaps.

"Really?" Lily challenges.

"Don't bother, Morgana. I don't want platitudes. They won't help."

Lily purses her lips. "Did punching a hole in my wall help?" she asks acerbically.

"Regulus _killed_ Anastasia," Sirius retorts, his voice breaking. He slams his hand onto the table and shoves his chair backwards, accidentally smashing it into James' legs. James grunts and takes a step backwards, but Sirius doesn't notice.

"My brother killed our friend," Sirius snarls. "He's a _Death Eater_. He is on the other side. He is my brother, and he is the _enemy_. Do you have _any_ idea what it feels like to watch someone you love turn to the Dark Arts?"

Lily says nothing. The answer to _that_ question is obvious, and it lingers in the tense silence between them.

Then she picks up the towel and touches the tip of her wand to the cloth, dampening it. She walks over to the table and reaches across to take Sirius' hand. He tries to yank his arm away from her, but her grip is hard around his wrist, and she forces him back into the seat and then starts dabbing at his knuckles. Sirius glares silently at her, but the fight drains out of him, and he doesn't protest as she takes the seat across from him.

The skin around his knuckles is a dark purple. She cleans off the blood as best she can, but there is nothing to be done for the bruises.

* * *

_v. Black_

Sirius stares straight ahead, seeing nothing.

The silence of his flat is overwhelming. He doesn't like silence, doesn't like the gnawing, aching feeling that the quiet brings. He doesn't like the thoughts that are currently bouncing around in his head, and wishes he could drown them out with something else.

But what? Talking hadn't done much good.

_It doesn't matter_, he had said. A lie. It matters – a lot. More than he wants to admit. More than he will ever say aloud.

Of course, the other three saw right through his lie.

_Regulus isn't my brother any more. He chose his side a long time ago._

They had seen through that lie, too.

Sirius blinks and shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He turns his head towards the right, towards the kitchen window of this flat. It faces out onto a parking lot in the middle of Muggle London; just gray, cracked cement and weeds. The sky is overcast, though an occasional ray of light peaks through the cloud cover, reminding the world that spring is coming.

He gets up and walks away from the table. It's too quiet. When he shared a flat with James, it was never quiet. But then James and Lily got married and moved into _their_ home, and Sirius had to find a place of his own.

_How do you feel?_ Remus had asked when Sirius had told him the news. Sirius had brushed off the question, offered a series of lies to get Remus to stop talking.

_It doesn't matter. I don't care. He's not my brother._

And Remus had left, and all Sirius has is silence.

His mind treacherously wanders to the past, to the sound of Regulus' squealing laughter when, as a toddler, he had followed Sirius everywhere. As he'd gotten older, though, Regulus had grown quieter and more obedient to the Black family legacy, a sharp contrast to Sirius' noisy rebellion. Regulus was the good boy, the dutiful son, through-and-through.

Right up until the end.

_Is there anything I can do?_ James had asked as Sirius had paced angrily back and forth across the perfect floor of the perfect living room in the perfect home that James shares with his perfect wife.

James words were empty offers because nothing can fix this. Peter, at least, had been a bit smarter and, after giving Sirius a long, piercing look, had asked, _What do you want me to say?_ He, at least, seemed to understand that there was nothing to say.

But that realization, of course, only leads to more silence.

Regulus is dead. Sirius is the heir to the Black family name, the Black family legacy. It's a bitterly ironic situation. Regulus only ever wanted his parents approval, and that desire cost him his life. Sirius wanted nothing to do with his family, and now he's the only one left to carry the name forward.

Maybe he won't. Maybe he'll never marry and never have children, and the Blacks will die out with him. It's the best solution he can think of at the moment.

A knock drags him out of his depressing thoughts, and he grabs his wand and walks out of the kitchen and through the entry way to the door. He wonders who it could be – James, checking up on him? But James wouldn't knock, he'd just burst in unannounced and uninvited, safe in the knowledge that Sirius will never kick him out. Remus, then? Or Peter? Either of them might knock, only Sirius remembers vaguely that Remus has a meeting with Dumbledore some time today, and Peter is probably at the Ministry.

He opens the door and blinks, surprised.

"Morgana."

"Black." Evans hesitates, then says, "James told me about your brother."

"Of course he did," Sirius mutters. His words are sour, and he is surprised to hear the malice dripping from each syllable. "Did he send you to check up on me, then?" He's not mad at her, or James. But he is mad, and she's standing in front of him, and he's spent too much time with nothing but silence for company, and he _can't stop_. "Can't leave Sirius all alone. Can't trust him – he might run off to do something reckless. He needs a babysitter, right? And who better than perfect prefect Lily Evans."

"James doesn't know I'm here," Evans says. "He's doing something for the Order."

Sirius gives her a lecherous grin, trying desperately to conjure up the reckless, riotous, irrepressible personality he had at Hogwarts. "Here to start a torrid affair then, Evans?" he asks, winking. "Prongs is a bit boring, I'll give you that."

"Shut up, Padfoot," Evans says.

Sirius stares at her, nonplussed. She's told him to shut up on several occasions, and that does not surprise him. But she's never called him Padfoot, and the name slips causally off her tongue as though she isn't even aware of what she just said.

Lily holds up a bottle of Firewhisky with a black ribbon tied around it. "For you."

* * *

_vi. Yellow_

"What's the difference between lemon crème and daffodil?"

Lily glances up from her seat on the sofa. James is frowning at the swatches of colors she's brought home from the Muggle paint store, his brow furrowed as though he's never seen the color yellow before.

"Lemon crème is warmer," she answers before turning her attention back to the catalogue in front of her. It's a catalogue from a Muggle baby store, full of pictures of cute little pajamas and advice on the best brand of bottle to buy. The magical world doesn't have the same plethora of baby-oriented merchandise as the Muggle world does – a definite failing, Lily thinks to herself.

"Warmer?" James repeats. "They… exude heat? Are they going to heat James Jr.'s nursery?"

Lily rolls her eyes, and offers the obligatory admonishment, "We're not naming our child James Jr. We still don't even know if it is a boy." James gets a wicked gleam in his eyes then, and Lily continues quickly, "And we are not naming a daughter Jamesella."

James pouts.

Lily laughs and sets aside the catalogue for a moment. "The _color_ is warmer, James. It has more red in it. Daffodil is a cooler shade of yellow. It has more blue."

James blinks at her. "Love, nothing you just said made sense." He puts the swatches of color down. "Remind me again why we are painting the nursery yellow?"

"Because we don't know if the child is a girl or a boy, and yellow is a gender-neutral color," Lily answers automatically. She stands up, one hand on her lower back. She has only started to show a little, her stomach rounding slightly above her hips, but this child is already sitting heavily on her spine.

She crosses to James. He is sitting on the floor, sorting through the various items she has bought. She leans against him and runs her fingers through his hair. It is rare now, these moments of domesticity. James is always rushing off to another Order mission, leaving her behind. And there is a spark of bitterness that flares up in her chest every time he leaves, and she's never really sure if she's angry at him or herself or the entire world.

She has to treasure these soft, gentle moments, because they are so rare, so –

Sirius bursts through the door and crashes into their flat, his face flushed with excitement. "Prongs!" he practically shouts. "I got to 150 on my motorcycle!"

Lily feels irritation, but it is faint and fleeting. James wraps his fingers into hers, and gives Sirius a pointed look. "I'm _busy_."

"Doing what?" Sirius demands. He strides forward, pausing in front of Lily long enough to pat her stomach – and Merlin, _why_ does everyone keep doing that? It's like they've never seen a pregnant woman before – and then drops to the floor next to James and picks up a bottle. "You're ignoring me to stare at baby stuff?"

"I am ignoring you so that I can learn the difference between daffodil and lemon crème."

"One's a flower, the other's a type of pie," Sirius says.

Lily sits carefully on the floor next to James. "They're colors," she says curtly. "For the nursery."

Sirius blinks. "Oh, I've got great ideas for how to decorate the nursery!" he enthuses. "I know some good places in Muggle London to get posters, and…"

"I've seen how you decorate," Lily interjects. "I'd rather stick with yellow." Sirius pouts, and the expression is so eerily identical to James' that Lily has to do a double-take. She shakes her head then, trying – and not quite managing – to bite back a smile.

"You won't let me put posters of Muggle rock bands on your baby's wall, I'm not allowed to teach him or her how to fly my motorcycle… the baby's going to grow up to be like you, Morgana! _Boring_."

"Boring? Did you just call me boring?" Lily demands in mock outrage.

Sirius blinks. "Yes. Wasn't that clear?"

"I like daffodil," James announces. "I like the cooler undertones." He holds up the swatch for Lily, and she frowns at it.

"That's lemon crème, James. It's the warmer one."

James flips it around to read the description. "Huh. I thought it was daffodil." He picks up the swatch of daffodil and squints at it. "I honestly can't tell the difference between them, love. They're both yellow."

"This is why you should go with posters," Sirius interjects. "I saw this great one just the other day – Pink Floyd. Oh, and I've already got a Led Zepplin one you could have. And, of course, you have to have the Rolling Stones." He pauses for a moment, then turns a thoughtful expression to James and asks, "Have you ever noticed that Muggles make so much better music?"

"I don't like the Rolling Stones," James replies.

Sirius pretends to clutch at his heart and falls backwards, his back and shoulders landing on the floor with a thump. "Sacrilege! How could you say such a thing? How could we ever be friends?"

"You keep this up, and I'm going over to Cynthia's," Lily threatens with a huff. "_She_ will help me. She takes this seriously."

"I am taking this seriously," James protests, glaring at Sirius. He waves a swatch of color in front of Lily's face. "It's not my fault that lemon crème looks exactly like daffodil."

"That one _is_ daffodil, James!"

"Oh, bloody…" James throws the swatch of color on the ground in frustration, then suddenly sweeps Lily into his arms and kisses her. "Don't go to Cynthia's," he murmurs, and she finds herself half on his lap, her arms trapped between their bodies. She laughs against his lips.

"Ugh! Stop it," Sirius complains, rolling over and grabbing a pillow from the sofa to cover his eyes.

Lily laughs even harder.

She disentangles herself from James and stands up, glancing at the clock on the wall. "I need to start making supper," she says. Her eyes linger on James for a moment before she makes a decision. She turns to Sirius, still sprawled on the ground with the pillow over his eyes, and asks, "Padfoot, are you staying?"

Sirius pushes the pillow away and gapes at her. She's never made this offer before – at least not without prompting from James or occasionally Remus.

"I'll invite Cynthia, too," she adds quickly, because it's suddenly odd and uncomfortable, but she's _trying_, and…

"Are you going to poison me, Madam le Fey?" Sirius asks with a wink.

Lily exhales and grins. "And take the risk of poisoning James, too? Don't be silly, Black. I'll fine some other way to kill you."

Later, as the four of them sit around the table, Lily resting her feet in James' lap and Cynthia and Sirius arguing over the relative merits of Muggle music, Lily can't help but think that, despite the darkness all around them, today has been a good day.

But this is war, and she doesn't know that Cynthia will be dead within the week.

* * *

_vii. Blue_

"We have to go! James, Lily – we need to move. _Now_!"

Sirius burst into the flat, his wand already in his hand, just in case. The place is surrounded by wards, but fortunately none of those protect against him, and there is nothing to stop him from rushing into his best friends' home. He doesn't pause – can't pause. They don't have _time_.

It's the middle of the night, and Sirius shouts out, "James! Get up!" once more before he hears the stumbling footsteps and James comes crashing blearily into the living room. He takes one look at Sirius' wide, frantic eyes, and spins on his heel, darting down the hallway towards Harry's nursery.

Sirius is right behind him, but Lily has beaten them both. She stands in the nursery, holding Harry tightly in her arms. She holds her wand in one hand, the smooth wood pressed awkwardly against the skin of her opposite arm. She is wearing only a nightgown, a thin, cotton sheath that ends just below her knees.

"We can't Apparate," she says breathlessly. She doesn't even ask what is going on – they all know there is only one thing that would cause Sirius to come sprinting into their home in the middle of the night, full of panic. She's already thinking ahead, trying to plan their next move, but Sirius hears the thin, reedy quality to her voice and knows that she is terrified.

Death Eaters are coming for them.

They can't Apparate. It's dangerous to Apparate with an infant. Harry's too young – and Lily won't risk it. Not for anything.

They can't fly, either – Lily's horrible at it. And they can't trust the Floo Network, not when they don't know how far Voldemort has managed to infiltrate the Ministry.

Those thoughts all rush through Sirius' mind, and he curses silently that they didn't plan this out better. They knew that Voldemort was after them. They knew that Death Eaters were picking off Order members one-by-one, and James and Lily have always been prime targets. Why didn't they think through all the possibilities, all the ways Harry's birth would change their normal escape options? Why didn't they have a _plan_?

"We have to get out of here," Lily says, fear making her voice higher than usual. "If Voldemort comes…"And Sirius sees her expression harden, sees the resolve come into her eyes. "Only one thing for it, then," she murmurs. She presses her son into Sirius' arms, then grabs the nearest object – a teddy bear that Peter bought for Harry – and points her wand at it. She murmurs a spell under her breath, too quiet for Sirius to hear. But the bear glows blue, and Sirius knows that Lily has created an illegal portkey.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, he grins. _Finally_, Lily is breaking the rules.

"Hold Harry tightly," Lily instructs to Sirius. "Support his head." Then she holds out the teddy bear, and James and Sirius automatically reach for it, and a moment later they are whisked away.

Later, after Lily has tucked Harry into his temporary crib at Sirius' flat and James and Sirius have both downed three shots of Firewhiskey, Sirius has a chance to think about the situation. They were ill prepared, and they have to do better next time. He can't lose James. They need a better plan.

But he doesn't know what it would be, so he forces a grin to his lips, "Morgana did well with the _illegal_ portkey. I guess she's finally realized that some rules should be broken."

James smacks Sirius on the shoulder. "Don't let her hear you say that," he warns, laughing.

"Say what?" Lily asks, appearing in the doorway to the room. She studies them both, her quick, scrutinizing gaze taking in Sirius' bright eyes and James' flushed face. "Oh for the love of Merlin, are you two _drunk_?"

"Not drunk," Sirius answers. "Just pleasantly not-sober."

Lily rolls her eyes, but smiles. "Idiots," she says. Then she clears her throat and adds, "Thank you." Sirius glances at her, and she elaborates, "For getting to us before the Death Eaters did."

Sirius shrugs off the gratitude, and instead wonders vaguely what the Death Eaters thought when they showed up to an empty flat. Wonders if Voldemort was with them. Wonders how quickly they managed to get through the protective wards, wonders if anyone from the Order arrived to try to stop them, to capture them.

He wonders, also, how Dumbledore learned of the imminent attack. Who could have told him?

"Hey, I'm just glad your portkey got us out," Sirius says with a smirk. "I wasn't sure you knew how to work them, given that any unauthorized practice would have been illegal."

Lily huffs. "Well, I wasn't going to let you do it," she responds with a smirk of her own. "I remember you in Charms, Sirius. Pretty sure that was the only class you nearly failed. Also, the only class where you nearly set the professor on _fire_ despite the fact that we were working on _freezing charms_."

"I maintain that Flitwick's beard spontaneously combusted!"

"Yes, and it happened right when you pointed your wand at him and said a spell – with atrocious pronunciation and the wrong wand movement, I might add," Lily answers dryly.

"That's not what happened, Morgana," Sirius protests. "I did everything perfectly. My wand malfunctioned. Someone must have cursed it. It was sabotage!"

"We _all_ saw it. Face it, Black, you're just _bad_ at Charms."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

Lily gives a mock thoughtful look, then answers, "No. I'm just saying I don't trust a single word that comes out of your mouth."

"First I'm bad at Charms, now I'm a liar. That hurts, Morgana."

"Hey, at least she trusts you with Harry," James interjects. "Death Eaters about to attack, we're stuck in the flat with no way out – she realizes we need a portkey, and what does Lily do? She hands my son to _you_."

"He was closer to me than you were," Lily defends herself, shaking her head in exasperation. "I needed my hands free to create the portkey and Sirius was standing right there. We didn't have a lot of time – what was I supposed to?"

"Morgana and I are madly in love and having an affair. Harry is actually mine," Sirius deadpans. "That's why he looks exactly like me."

James shoves Sirius off the sofa.

As Sirius hits the floor, the breath rushes from him. It's not the impact of the fall that does it, though. It's the sudden realization that James is _right_. With Death Eaters about to attack, Lily had handed Harry to _him_. She had not even hesitated to press her son into his arms.

He sits up, feeling wrong-footed. A lump forms in his throat, and he mutters, "I need a drink."

"I'm in," James says, jumping off the sofa and dragging Sirius to his feet. "I think we finished your Firewhisky, but I saw some regular old scotch in the cupboard."

And as the two men stumble towards the pantry, Sirius distinctly hears Lily murmur disparagingly, "_Boys_."

* * *

_viii. Brown_

"Are you out of your bloody mind?" Lily hisses. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I wanted to have some fun?" Sirius replies. He's staring at her calmly, not even the slightest bit of regret or remorse in his eyes, and she wants to scream. She can't – Harry is asleep in the room next to this one, and she doesn't want to risk waking him – but Sirius' unrepentant expression makes her furious.

Her hands are clenched into fists at her side.

It has been another long week. James paces around their house every night, full of pent-up, anxious energy; and every night, Lily watches Harry sleep, trying to reassure herself that everything will be alright. Neither of them like feeling trapped, helpless. But there is a spy in the Order, and they can do nothing but hide.

And now Sirius has decided to behave like a bloody idiot, and he's standing in front of her wearing a stupid grin like he expects her to just laugh it off.

She can't.

"I'm living my life, Lily," Sirius continues. He holds out the new motorcycle goggles, the reason for the argument. They are ridiculously stylish, all sleek brown leather and reflective lenses. "I couldn't just buy them and _not_ use them," he says, still wearing that stupid grin.

"You could have died, Sirius," she answers. "That stupid motorbike of yours – it's too identifiable. People see it and know it is you, and then the Death Eaters attack and…"

"So I'm just supposed to stop flying it?" Sirius interjects, one eyebrow raised. He twists the leather of the goggles in his hands. "I should hide away inside, only venture out for an Order mission?"

"That's what _I_ do," Lily snaps.

Sirius huffs. "You have Prongs and Harry, Lily. I'd be hiding completely alone." Something flickers through his face, a brief hint of vulnerability as he mutters under his breath, "Just me and silence."

"Better silent than dead," Lily replies grimly. She looks away from him, from those idiotic goggles, and takes a moment to collect her breath. She's so angry she's actually shaking, but she just can't seem to make him understand. "Dumbledore cautioned all of us. He said we need to be careful." Her voice wavers as she adds, "You _know_ how many Order members have been killed in the last three months alone."

"He said careful. He didn't say we had to become hermits," Sirius grumbles.

"Merlin, can't you for once follow instructions? Not every rule is made to be broken! This isn't Hogwarts."

Sirius' eyes darken, and he practically snarls, "I know that, and I'm not the boy I was at Hogwarts, Lily. We've changed – _all_ of us." His voice is filled with vicious anger and loathing, and a million other emotions that Lily can't identify but knows have something to do with being a Black.

Nearly all his family members are on the other side.

She's on shaky ground and she knows it, but she can't stop herself. "Then act like it! _Think_ before you go out and do something stupid and risky just for fun."

"Everything is stupid and risky! We're at war," Sirius counters. "People get attacked and they die! But that's no reason to stop living our lives, to become people we aren't, to… to…" He's struggling to find the right words, and Lily feels the burn of tears in her eyes because she knows what he is saying and doesn't want to admit it.

Anyway, his reasoning isn't good enough, even if she understands.

"I'm not asking you to change. I'm asking you to be careful."

"I _am_ careful," Sirius mutters defensively. He runs a hand through his hair. "I didn't just jump on my motorbike and ride into London without a thought. I had my wand at the ready, and I put a protective spell on my jacket and my goggles, and I was paying attention. I am _always_ paying attention. Which is why, when the Death Eaters showed up, I got away without a scratch."

Lily isn't satisfied. She glares, and Sirius shakes his head.

"I'm fine, Lily," Sirius says, his tone impatient, almost patronizing. It makes Lily's blood boil to hear it, to hear the way he says so calmly, "This is my life, and I can live it the way I want."

Lily snaps.

"This isn't about _you_!" she cries. "It's about us. It's about everyone who worries about you _constantly_." She snatches the goggles out of Sirius' hand and waves them in front of his face. "Does this matter so much to you that you're willing to die for it?"

Sirius blinks at her, completely nonplussed.

"People are dying," she says, calming down slightly. The words comes out hoarse and shaky. "People _have_ died. Cynthia and… and…" Marlene's death is so fresh, so raw. She struggles to say her friend's name, doesn't want to admit that she's lost yet another person that she loved. But she forces out, "Marlene died two weeks ago, Sirius. _Two weeks_."

Sirius' expression softens. He smiles, and asks, "So you'd miss me if I died, Morgana?"

Lily blinks. "Don't be stupid, Black," she replies dismissively, automatically responding to his banter with her own dry comment. "I was thinking about what your death would do to James."

It's a quip, a jibe, an easy dismissal of her own feelings, of how much a part of her life Sirius has become and how much she would miss him if he were gone. But it's also the truth – losing Sirius would destroy James.

"Uh huh. Sure you were," Sirius answers disbelievingly. He gives a bark of laughter. "Lily Evans, I think I've finally won you over."

"Oh, stuff it, Black," Lily snaps. She wipes at her eyes, brushing away the tears, and any humor she was feeling evaporates. She wants to fall into the ease of their teasing, trade insults like they usually do. But Sirius could have died, and she can't just let that go. "Can't you be serious for once?"

"I'm _always_ Sirius."

"And that joke has _never_ been funny."

"Oh, that hurts."

"You're a prat, Padfoot." Lily shakes her head. "It would destroy James if anything happened to you. This isn't just about you, Sirius. Or me. It's about him, and I can't…" She loves James. She loves him in that all-encompassing, painful, out-of-control way that still leaves her breathless when she stops to think about. And she knows what Sirius' death would do to him.

And then Sirius does something completely unexpected.

He hugs her.

The door to the house opens, and James steps inside. He takes in the scene – Lily crying on Sirius' shoulder – and asks with immediate fear, "What happened?"

"Your best mate is a bloody idiot," Lily answers. She pulls herself out of Sirius' embrace and practically throws the brown leather goggles at James, who catches them with a bewildered expression on his features. Then she spins on her heel and stalks out of the room.

Behind her, she hears Sirius remark, "And your wife is a lunatic, Prongs."

* * *

_ix. Green_

The house is in ruins.

It is the first thing Sirius sees as he guides his motorbike through the heavy cloud cover. Godric's Hollow lies still and silent, and the house is in ruins.

Passing through the clouds leaves his hair and skin damp, and tiny droplets of water fall into his eyes and cling to the hem of his jacket. He wipes at his face in anger – in fear – and shakes his arm, and drops out of the sky like a rock. The landing is rough, jarring, and sends reverberations through his bones, but he doesn't notice, doesn't care. He's desperate to get inside, to find James.

He runs for the house.

The yard is somehow both wild and perfectly manicured. Lily is always tending it, pushing and prompting the plants to move the way she wants. He remembers what it looked like in the summer, with tiny bursts of color amidst the overwhelming green, and the brambles and small trees haphazardly dotting the landscape before stopping primly at the edges of the small path.

The flowers are all dead now, and near the house the grass has been scorched brown.

He pushes the door open, and it falls off its hinges.

And he sees James.

"Prongs…" he whispers, and falls to his knees.

It doesn't make sense. None of it makes sense. But he can still feel that sinking suspicion that had started when he'd arrived at Peter's empty flat, the suspicion that had forced him to his motorbike, forced him to Godric's Hollow as fast as the bike could fly…

He closes his eyes and sees Peter's pale face, his features a combination of apprehension and courage as he nods, as he says that _of course he'll be James' Secret Keeper_.

Something starts building inside of Sirius. He thinks it might be anger, but it is so much stronger than anything he has ever felt before. It burns hot and writhes angrily in his stomach, and then starts to grow, starts to spread. His vision darkens at the edges as this poisonous hatred takes hold of his heart.

"Peter," he snarls.

He crawls closer to James, his nails scraping against the floor. He's shaky, and everything around him starts to blur, and that is how he realizes that he is crying.

He can't think straight. James is dead, and he – he wants to tear Peter limb from limb.

How could this happen? How could he have let it happen? How could he not have known that Peter was the spy? How could he not have seen it?

How could he have doubted Remus?

"Oh, Merlin…" he chokes out, because he is the one who convinced James and Lily to use Peter – and Lily hadn't wanted to, had protested, had argued – and it is all his fault.

The sound of movement on the cement behind him causes him to look up sharply, to grip his wand. Then the faint light of the streetlamps is blotted out by a large figure stepping into the doorway.

"Sirius?"

"Hagrid," Sirius breathes, and relaxes slightly.

Hagrid looks past him, at James' body, and his ruddy complexion goes completely white. His mouth falls open, but no sound comes out, and for a moment everything freezes. It is a tableau of the future, Sirius thinks morbidly – James dead and Hagrid mute with shock and Sirius… Sirius is still and quiet, and screaming on the inside.

And then they hear the sound of crying.

Sirius lurches to his feet. He'd forgotten. In his all-consuming grief, he'd _forgotten_.

"Harry," he breathes, and starts for the stairs, Hagrid at his heels. If Harry is still alive, if Harry survived… Well, Sirius has no idea what that would mean. He hasn't even stopped to wonder where Voldemort is, why there is no Dark Mark floating above the destroyed house. It doesn't matter – all the mysteries fade away when compared to his grief and rage at what has happened, but if Harry is still alive…

He stumbles over the debris and rubble that are scattered among the wreckage, but doesn't stop. Instead, he flings himself into the nursery to find Harry standing up in his crib, gripping the bars tightly and crying, howling, his tear-streaked face turned towards…

Lily's dead body on the floor.

When Sirius saw James dead, he thought his entire world had fallen apart. Somehow, this is worse.

Because Lily – this temperamental, judgmental, stubborn know-it-all – is the person James loved most in the world. This is the woman James would have gladly died for, the woman James wanted kept safe at all costs. And she is dead, sprawled on the floor, her red hair splayed out beneath her, her wide green eyes staring upwards, as though looking through the cracks in the now-ruined roof.

Sirius inhales slowly. He has failed James.

He staggers to Harry, to his godson. His _orphaned_ godson. And as he wraps his arms around Harry, as he tries his best to shield the toddler from the sight of his mother's dead body, he silently promises himself that he will hunt Peter down.

Hagrid is in tears now, blowing his nose with a giant handkerchief and muttering something about how Lily Evans was the best witch he had ever known. Sirius rolls his eyes – of course, _everyone_ loves Lily – but instead of the bitter incredulity he usually feels at the mention of how special Lily is, all he feels is empty.

There is nothing in the world he wouldn't give to bring her back.

Hagrid is at his side then, saying something about Harry and Dumbledore and Lily's family, but Sirius is only dimly aware of it all. Harry is crying into his shirt, tiny fingers clutching the fabric. This is all that is left of James and Lily. This boy – this tiny, crying child with his father's hair and his mother's eyes – is all that remains.

But when Hagrid mentions Dumbledore, Sirius thinks of Voldemort again, and wonders. Where is he? Where is the madman who did this, who destroyed everything? What has happened to him?

And Sirius silently vows that after he kills Peter, he will hunt down Voldemort and kill him, too.

Hagrid pats him again on the shoulder, then hugs him suddenly, wrapping both Sirius and Harry in an embrace tight enough to squeeze the air from Sirius' lungs. "C'mon," he says thickly. "Need t' bring Harry downstairs."

Sirius nods mutely, and scoops Harry into his arms. Harry settles a bit, his sobs turning into sniffles. His face is still a blotchy red, and he rests his head against Sirius' shoulder. Whatever happened this night, Harry is the only survivor, the only one who can report what Voldemort did and where he went.

Sirius can only pray that Harry doesn't remember any of it.

At the doorway to the nursery, he forces himself to glance back, to take one final look at his best mate's wife.

_She lies on the floor, and her green eyes stare unseeingly upwards, reflecting the night sky that peeks in through the destroyed roof – and this is the end._


End file.
